


small victories

by simaetha



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Burns, Gen, reposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simaetha/pseuds/simaetha
Summary: Prompt: "au where Elwing gives up the silmaril and Morgoth kills everyone OH WAIT. HOW ABOUT. NOT THAT." - anon





	

They had dealt with the woman fairly, in the end, with only a brief skirmish. He did not know what had happened, to her or to the twins, after.

It had seemed a relief, at first. More than that.

“We should move the camp,” Maglor was saying, smiling, coaxingly. Maedhros had grown to hate that smile. “Further south – “

“We should run, again?”

“We should keep squatting here, exposed to foul winds and fell beasts? Surely not.”

The woods were worse than ever. Day was stinking rot and small, crawling things that skittered through the mire, biting slow fever; night, a freezing darkness into which scouts and guards vanished, one by one.

He did not know what had become of those who had hidden in the makeshift town at the mouth of the Sirion. The Isle of Balar had not fallen yet. It would, in time, he thought.

“We should,” said Maedhros, “move North.”

“ – I see,” Maglor said, smiling again, a reflexive pulling back of lips from teeth, in forced lightness. “An amusing suggestion, brother, but – “

Maedhros set the stump of his arm on the table, with a hollow thud.

“We should move North,” he said, again.

A brief stillness.

“What nonsense,” Maglor said. His mouth still twisted upwards, the eyes too wide, whites showing beneath the lids. “What do you expect us to do, brother? Cast ourselves against the walls of Thangorodrim, for the sake of two jewels we can’t touch – “

Maedhros had not tried, himself, not after. The scars whitening over Maglor’s fingers and palms told a different story.

“Yes,” Maedhros said, and –

“Yes,” said Amras, looking up, reddish hair hanging around his face, “we should. North. I agree.”

He did not gesture, or reach out, or make any movement of his hands. Amras’ fingers were bone and char, under the bandages. Maedhros was not sure what was left of them; if the bandages still held anything but bone, laced together by the fabric.

The Silmarils were not things easily given up.

Maglor shoved back his chair, with a discordant screech. Amras went back to staring at whatever remained at the end of his wrists.

“Fine,” he said, his face still smiling. “It’s nice to agree on something, isn’t it? North. I’ll look forward to it.”

The scars made Maedhros’ own smile a horror. But he did think he saw Maglor’s expression falter, at last, as he turned away.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](http://simaethae.tumblr.com/post/151438148052/au-where-elwing-gives-up-the-silmaril-and-morgoth)


End file.
